


Your Lips to Ease His Roar

by benadrill



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: "damn bitch you live like this?" -jaskier @geralt, "how many words does it take me to say that geralt is the little spoon: the musical", Angst, Canon-Typical Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Needs a Hug, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, geralt finally takes a nap, gross overuse of the 'horizontal line' tool as well as italics and ellipsis, jaskier being a mother hen, jaskier calls geralt his muse as a term of endearment, jaskier's in it so it's a musical by default, kinda hurt and kinda angsty?, the fact that geralt and roach didn't come up when i tried to tag it is a travesty, the hurt is being painfully exhausted and the angst is geralt being geralt, yes the bathtub thing is overdone. no i don't care.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22608454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benadrill/pseuds/benadrill
Summary: "Once we get in there, I want you to sleep, Geralt, and I mean actually sleep. None of your meditation or just resting your eyes or hovering just on the edge of unconsciousness so you can stay alert. Go. The fuck. To sleep."Geralt hasn't been sleeping well at all. Jaskier takes notice.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 32
Kudos: 958
Collections: Best Geralt





	Your Lips to Ease His Roar

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is dedicated to the article "How to Give the Best Massage Ever (That Will Definitely Lead to Sex)" by glamour.com

One thing Jaskier loved about Geralt was that he was a surprisingly good listener. He had, for as long as he could remember, been an extremely talkative person. Geralt, on the other hand was so quiet that when they first started traveling together, he worried that he tuned him out entirely. Jaskier had grown accustomed to driving people away because he was too obnoxious or something of the like and he was convinced that Geralt would be no different, but he  _ really _ didn’t want to lose this particular traveling companion.

And so, Jaskier put a lot of thought into his words when he was around the other man. Maybe a lot wasn’t entirely accurate. He still said some totally ridiculous things and got into just as much, if not more trouble than before, but he was  _ trying _ , and that was what counted. He would take pauses during his one-sided conversations to check on Geralt, making sure he wasn’t bored half to death, and was pleased to find that despite not having any  _ verbal _ response, he would nod occasionally and make little noises in lieu of comments. Jaskier knew he listened, and that was enough for him. 

In short, Geralt was not an inattentive man.

Sure, he tried to give off an aloof aura, but he rarely ignored people.

Which is why, Jaskier thought, his current behavior was so unusual.

He was snippier than usual lately. Of course, Geralt was never  _ not _ snippy and curt, but he seemed almost… upset. With  _ him _ .

He couldn’t bear the tension between them, so while they were traveling between jobs, he asked “Geralt, is something bothering you?”

The other man was quick to dismiss him “Don’t worry about it…”

Nevertheless, Jaskier persisted “Is it something I said? Because if I somehow offended you, just tell me what it was and I’ll-”

“I  _ said _ not to worry about it, Jaskier,” he growled, pulling Roach further up on the path.

Well  _ that _ was entirely useless.

* * *

The next day was hardly any better for either of them. Jaskier wanted to ask Geralt about yesterday, but it was clear that the witcher had no intentions of discussing it. It wasn't unreasonable, he thought, that he was scared for Geralt as he went off on his own to fight the monster of the week. Of course, he was always a  _ little  _ nervous on his partner's behalf, but he never doubted that Geralt would pull through and save the day.

However, Geralt had been so  _ off  _ lately, spending more time fiddling with Roach's equipment than usual, rubbing at his temples in a way that was neither annoyed nor exasperated- hell, Jaskier has seen him stumble to the ground while training yesterday. Sure, he fell all the time when he was going up against creatures, but during training, Geralt was like a cat, always landing on his feet. He  _ never  _ fell during training. 

"I just don't know what to do with him," Jaskier lamented to the horse. "You know as well as I do what he's like. Trying to get him to open up is like pulling teeth." 

Jaskier knew how dramatic Geralt could be, no matter how much the other man tried to hide it. He could never forget the “djincident”, as he liked to call it. Of course, Geralt would grunt and bet him to call it  _ literally anything else please _ , but that would just make him say it even more. But honestly, releasing a dangerously powerful creature just because you can't sleep?  _ Y'know,  _ he had told Geralt after the event,  _ most people just drink some tea. _

Roach bumped her nose lightly against his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah… I know you’re worried too,” he sighed, stroking her mane. “We’ll just have to be there for him when he’s ready to talk on his own.”

* * *

There were times when the acrid smells of a town were too overwhelming, or the sunlight was just a little too bright when there were no trees for it to filter through, and Geralt, with his heightened witcher senses, would bury his face in Jaskier's shoulder for refuge. It wasn't entirely uncommon. 

Jaskier rarely thought anything of it.

But now, he couldn’t figure out what could possibly be bothering his witcher. The fire was lit, but not too bright. He tried to sniff around without drawing too much attention to himself, searching for any strong scents that could be irritating him, but found nothing. 

Running his fingers through Geralt’s hair, he asked him, “What’s wrong?”

"Headache," he said brusquely. 

_ It must be bad if he's admitting it this readily,  _ Jaskier noted. They had become much closer over the years, that much was true. There were far less boundaries between them than when they had first started to travel together. Nevertheless, Geralt was still hesitant to ask him for help. Jaskier practically had to force him to let him tend to his wounds or give him any sort of caretaking. Every time he tried, Geralt would brush him off, muttering something about how  _ witchers heal faster  _ or he  _ doesn't want to be a burden _ or something of the like, but mutagen-induced healing factors be damned, sometimes being cared for is nice, and he wanted Geralt to be able to experience that without feeling like a burden.

"Geralt..." The bard's voice was laced with concern. "How long has it been since you last slept?"

"I'm fine, Jaskier," Geralt huffed.

Jaskier reached out and gently cupped Geralt's cheek. The other man's eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he leaned his face into it appreciatively, betraying the exhaustion he had tried so hard to hide.

"You know that's not what I asked."

"Hm..." It was getting progressively harder for Geralt to form any real words, and apparently, Jaskier could sense this.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I need some sort of answer."

Geralt raised one hand, slowly.

"Five days, Geralt?"

"Maybe. Lost count."

"I know that witchers are different, but there's no way that even you can be healthy after that long."

He definitely wasn’t.

Everything ached. With every step he took, his head pounded so hard he felt as though he was going to be sick. His limbs felt too heavy, too loose, like he didn't have full control over them. His muscles were tense and tight. Every old scar felt sore from the cold. His eyes,  _ dear gods his eyes,  _ burned as they closed, throbbed under the light, regardless of how dim the sun was at dusk. He wanted nothing more than to lay down right where he was, with one of Jaskier's hands running through his hair and the other wrapped firmly around his waist, and sleep.

"Geralt," Jaskier said softly. "I think we should stay at an inn tonight. You need a good night's rest, maybe a little more, and I don't think that the ground will do. Are you alright with that?"

Geralt hummed and gave Jaskier an approving nod.

"Do you think you can get on Roach by yourself, or would you like me to help?"

"I've got it." _ Damnit, Jaskier, I'm tired, not an invalid,  _ was what he would have said, but he found that moving from his current spot was more challenging than he thought it would be. He had already committed to doing this on his own, though, and no amount of protest from his body would stop him.

He shakily made his way to Roach, and after some trial and error, managed to pull himself onto her saddle.

Jaskier spent most of the ride gently prodding Geralt to keep him conscious enough to avoid steering Roach into a tree. Roach was a smart girl and he had no doubt that she would get herself out of whatever trouble they got into. Despite this, he still didn’t want to see Geralt fall over. 

“Geralt? We’re about to reach town.”

Geralt straightened up a little, blearily looking around for the source of the voice. As his eyes fell upon Jaskier, he relaxed.

“Do you want me to get us a room?” the bard asked.

Geralt nodded. “I’ll be tying up Roach. Get me when you’re done.”

After Jaskier had finished heckling the innkeeper into giving them a hot bath free of charge, he made quick work of ushering Geralt to their room.

"Once we get in there, I want you to sleep, Geralt, and I mean actually sleep. None of your meditation or just resting your eyes or hovering just on the edge of unconsciousness so you can stay alert. Go. The fuck. To sleep. And, Geralt, if I find that you've woken yourself before I’m up, I swear-"

“Jaskier…”

The bard busied himself with the door. “Geralt, I’m serious, You need to learn some self care. What will you do when I’m not around, hm? Just go about sleeping on the ground of the woods? What about when you get injured? Who will tend to your more serious wounds? And not to mention your  _ emotional  _ well-being!”

Geralt froze and gazed at him, surprised. “Why would you care about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“My  _ emotional well-being.  _ You know witchers don’t have emotions.” Geralt looked into his eyes and Jaskier knew that he was being genuine. He really couldn’t understand why someone would care about him.

There were times like this when Geralt would say something with a particular tone, or tense when Jaskier,  _ sweet and mostly harmless Jaskier, who could never hurt his dear witcher,  _ touched him, and it made the bard’s heart ache. Then that ache would turn into a rage-filled burn directed towards the world, the people, the monsters, and everything else that forced Geralt to be so guarded. He wouldn’t ask him to change, and in a way he understood the necessity of Geralt’s disposition. A trusting witcher, a tender witcher, a  _ smitten _ witcher was a dead one. But he wished so badly that things were different.

“Because, Geralt,” He said. “I care about you and everything that comes along with you, including your ‘non-existent’ emotions. And I am going to show you.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Jaskier smirked, and in a teasing falsetto said “Oh, Jaskier, my darling, however will you go about showing me proof of your affection?” He returned to his regular tenor. “I am going to pamper you, Geralt of Rivia. Gods know you need it. Just imagine: a good hair washing, soft clothes to sleep in... maybe I could even give you a massage! I picked up some nice oils at the last town we were in that I’m sure would work  _ wonders. _ ”

Geralt had to admit the bard’s proposition sounded  _ very _ appealing. “Still hot?” he inquired, nodding towards the bath that sat in the middle of the room.

Jaskier dipped a hand in, testing the waters. “Should be plenty warm enough,” he replied. 

Geralt began to peel his filthy clothes off, but stopped at his shirt, apparently having some difficulty loosening the ties. 

“Here, let me help you out of that.” Jaskier untied the knot and slipped the layer off with ease. “Alright then, hop in.”

Relief flooded Geralt’s body as he sank into the tub, and he failed to hold back a satisfied groan.  _ Fuck  _ this was good. When Jaskier’s fingers made their way into his hair, rubbing the goo and grime from his scalp, the feeling went from good to  _ absolutely fucking phenomenal. _

“You like that, huh?” he smirked as small, pleased noises escaped Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier knew damn well how much Geralt enjoyed having his hair played with, but he was proud that he was one of the only people who had the privilege of actually doing it (and that he could tell Geralt his skills could only be attributed to his  _ nimble musician’s fingers _ ).

Once Jaskier deemed Geralt to be sufficiently filth-free, he helped him out of the bath with steady arms and handed him a soft towel. “Dry off quickly,” he instructed, rummaging through his bag in search of the oil he promised. “We can’t have you falling asleep before we even make it to the good part.”

"Good part?"

"The massage, you fool. I've been itching to try this for weeks now- aha!" He triumphantly raised the small vial. "You'll love this, I promise."

Geralt looked skeptical as he climbed onto the cot that sat at the foot of the bed. "What's it smell like?" He wasn't sure if he could handle any abrasive scents right now.

"It's supposed to be a 'subtle lavender'. I figured that it didn't seem to be  _ too  _ strong. Here, give it a try." He handed the bottle to Geralt, who tentatively wafted the fragrance to his nose. Just as Jaskier said, it was a very subtle smell. Just enough to be calming and noticeable, but not so much that it could worsen his headache.

Jaskier spilled a few drops onto Geralt’s back and began to work his hands down the other man’s back, kneading the muscles on either side of his spine. Despite how steady and sure he seemed, the fact of the matter was that Jaskier had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He had been on the receiving end of massages countless times, but those were different…  _ sensual,  _ he would say. He tried to imagine what he would want to feel like and what he should do to incite those feelings in his witcher, but overall, he was at a loss. “Is this… is this nice?” he wondered out loud. 

“Fuck  _ yes _ , Jask,” Geralt rasped huskily.

Jaskier hummed doubtfully. “You’re still tense, my muse.”

“Muse?”

“You  _ are  _ my muse, Geralt. If you can call me things like ‘lark’, ‘songbird’, and ‘dandelion’, it’s only fair that I get to use similar nicknames for you.” Geralt hummed. “Do you dislike it?”

“It’s…” He ducked his head down in a feeble attempt to hide the flush that spread across his cheeks. “It’s fine.”

Jaskier draped an arm over Geralt’s shoulder and leaned in close. “I’m sure you love it, love, but my point still stands. You’re tense even after everything we’ve done. What more can I do?”

Geralt considered for a moment. There was one thing they hadn’t tried, but Geralt wasn’t sure if he could ask for it without dying of embarrassment. But if it was truly the only option left…

“You could-” He paused. “You could sing something, maybe.”

“Oh, Geralt, I thought you’d never ask!” His voice raised in excitement, but he quickly quieted it back to the soft tone he had before when he noticed the way Geralt’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, sorry… lost myself for a moment there. I do know a few lullabies and I rarely get the chance to sing them.” He grabbed his lute from where it sat and got settled on his side of the bed. “Let me think… They’re all meant for young children so obviously some of the lines won’t apply, but I think you might enjoy this one.”

Geralt simply stood next to the bed, waiting.

“Geralt, I can hardly sing you to sleep if you’re keeping yourself up by standing there.” He patted the empty spot next to him. “Get over here and make yourself comfortable."

The witcher obliged, crawling under the covers and laying stiff as a board next to his bard. Jaskier was having none of this, however, and compensated by shifting himself closer until he was practically huddled against Geralt's side. 

Softly, he began to sing:

_ Go to sleep, go to sleep  _

_ close your blue eyes  _

_ if you close your blue eyes  _

_ you’ll cuddle up to me _

_ Go to sleep, go to sleep  _

_ you little falcon  _

_ when you grow  _

_ we’ll go to the field  _

_ Rock and rock  _

_ lime tree cradle  _

_ Oh, sonny boy, let  _

_ the cot put you to sleep  _

_ Rock and rock  _

_ from side to side  _

_ and I’ll weave for you  _

_ a rue wreath _

After the final verse, Jaskier set aside his lute, and wrapping an arm around Geralt from behind, pulled him close. “What did you think, love?”

“My eyes aren’t blue…” Geralt murmured as he fell asleep.

* * *

Geralt woke up to an arm splayed across his stomach and fingers rubbing gentle, soothing circles into his side. 

Jaskier's touch was a surprise (should it really be?), but not an unwelcome one. It's an innocent touch. A chaste one. It asked for nothing and expected nothing in return and  _ fuck, Geralt had no idea what to do with it. _

_ Why  _ was Jaskier touching him like this? Why had he touched him the way he did last night? Geralt wanted to believe that there was nothing to it. He was tired,  _ exhausted,  _ and Jaskier, being the loyal companion he was, simply wanted to make him feel better. Nothing more than that. 

Except that no one wanted to make him feel like that without wanting to use him in some way.

If someone had sex with him, they did it to be able to say that they had fucked or been fucked by a witcher. If he was pampered by some lord or king or someone of similar standing, it was so he would be more inclined to do their dirty work. If he was nursed back to health, it was so he could get back to slaying people's problems away or leave town as fast as possible. Nothing was done with his needs or comfort in mind. There was always something expected of him. And Geralt, for the life of him, couldn't figure out what it was that Jaskier wanted.

Something about the way Jaskier treated him threw Geralt off. Jaskier was gentle and tender and everything Geralt was not. He treated Geralt like a fragile thing (Jaskier could never hurt him), something that deserved to be cherished (he could never be cherished). And Geralt… Geralt didn't understand. He didn't understand the way his chest tightened when Jaskier asked him if he was okay, or why he leaned into the younger man's touch so easily, or…  _ shit. _ Since when was  _ he  _ comforted by  _ Jaskier? _ He was fairly confident that this whole scenario was meant to be the other way around. 

Jaskier stirred and wrapped his arms more tightly around Geralt. “I can practically hear your brooding. What is it?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, no sir, I definitely will worry about you as much as I want. What is it?”

“That whole thing. You and your incessant concern. I don’t...” He faltered. “I don’t understand it.”

“Oh,  _ Geralt _ .” The witcher shifted uncomfortably under Jaskier’s sympathetic gaze. He hated this. He hated being pitied, he hated having someone around who cared enough to make him talk about his feelings, and most of all he hated how much he loved it. “I love you, plain and simple.”

“And you’re  _ sure _ you don’t want anything?”

“I’m  _ sure, _ Geralt. I have you and that’s more than enough.”

And as he lay there in the too-small bed, tangled under the covers with his sweet bard, Geralt, for just a brief moment, believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> according to google, the lyrics i used are the english translation of a polish lullaby but i know next to nothing about polish so i'm not sure how accurate it actually is. here are the polish lyrics if anyone more knowledgeable wants to take a crack at it:  
> Oj lulaj, lulaj (bis)  
> Siwe óczka stulaj  
> Oj, siwe ocie stulisz  
> do mnie się przytulisz (bis)  
> Oj lulaj, lujaj/ (bis)  
> Maleńki sukole  
> Oj, jak ty mie urośniesz  
> Pójdziesz ze mną w pole/ (bis)  
> Kołysz mi się, kołysz  
> kolibejko lipia  
> Oj, niechże cię, synuniu  
> Łóziuniu usypia/ (bis)  
> Kołysz mi się, kołysz  
> od ściany do ściany  
> to ja ci uwiję  
> wianecek ruciany


End file.
